


to keep ourselves warm

by emrys (livingshitpost)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Don't Examine This Too Closely, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Lovers, Falling In Love, Injury, Kissing, M/M, Mandalorian, Mando'a, Mild Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Politics, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, Rough Kissing, Sexual Tension, Sharing Body Heat, bt jango doesn't wanna admit it lmaO, does this count as pining, listen . quijango Good, nothin too serious tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23814577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingshitpost/pseuds/emrys
Summary: “You’re freezing,” Qui-Gon comments.“I can take it.”Another arm wraps around Jango from the front.“You don’t have to.”
Relationships: Jango Fett & Qui-Gon Jinn, Jango Fett/Qui-Gon Jinn
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	to keep ourselves warm

Jango Fett cannot _stand_ Jedi.

He hates their holier-than-thou attitude. Their pretentiousness. Their victory over his people. The fact that they killed so many of his men on that disastrous mission.

He _hates_ Jedi.

It’s just his luck, then, that he would get stuck in a cave-in with one of them.

Blue eyes gaze down at him with a certain detached curiosity. A hand appears on his shoulder as he moves to sit up.

“Relax,” a rumbling voice tells him. “You’re injured.”

“Usen’ye, Jetii.” Jango snaps in his native tongue. His leg is throbbing, and he sighs as it starts to register in his mind. “I don’t need your help.”

“Your lower leg was broken by a falling boulder. I believe you may have a concussion, as well.”

Jango smacks the hand away. “I’m _fine_.”

The Jedi stares at him, long and hard. Thinking. _Contemplating_. Jango knows the look all too well; the officials of Mandalore give it to him when he tries to assert his heritage. He rolls his eyes as the Jedi extends a hand.

“I am Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn,” he tells Jango.

“Copaani mirshmure'cye, di’kut?” Jango glares, jutting his chin out. “Usen’ye!”

“I know you speak Basic,” the Jedi — Qui-Gon, Jango knows now — drawls.

“And I know Jetii are taught many languages; including Mando’a, so you can better serve those hut’uune that call themselves the _New Mandalorians_.”

Qui-Gon pulls his hand away, clearly seeing he’s not getting a shake anytime soon, and sits a few paces away with the hilt of his lightsaber in one hand and his brown robe in the other. He ignites the blade calmly and holds it close to the fabric. “Are you one of the Death Watch, then?”

Jango barks a laugh. “Kark, no. Zealots, the lot of ‘em. They’ve lost sight of the old ways.”

“Then with whom do you align yourself?”

Jango rolls his eyes. _There he goes; just as pompous as the rest of them_. “The True Mandalorians.”

“I would think that you _all_ think of yourselves as the true Mandalorians,” Qui-Gon remarks. He tosses Jango a wry smile.

Jango growls, baring his teeth. “Besom,” he mutters. “You’ve got no idea what you’re talking about, do you?”

“Surely not as much as you do, seeing as you were raised with the conflict.” Qui-gon pulls his hair back and leans down to blow gently on the fire that begins to engulf his robe. “Come; sit. It’s cold.”

“The _last_ thing I need is your help.”

“Fine then. Die in a cave. See if I care.”

Jango sits there stubbornly for a while, but even the thermal bodysuit he wears under his armor is more or less useless if he isn’t moving. He scoots closer to the fire.

“How long’ll this last us?” Jango asks. “I have no intention of dying in a karking cave. I’ve got-“ _No. that’s too much_. He barely _knows_ this man, and all Mando’ade know that the Jedi steal children away from their families. “There’s someone waiting for me back home.”

He can just make out Qui-Gon’s smug smile in the darkness. _Osik’mirshe_.

“As do I. Two someones, actually; students of mine. I have no intention of leaving them behind.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“It should last us a good while. Probably until help arrives. I was able to fix my com with parts from yours.”

“You kriffing thief-!”

“Maybe so. But one who is saving your life, asking for nothing in return.”

Jango narrows his eyes. “What do you want?”

“I just told you; nothing.”

“Everyone wants something.”

Qui-Gon nods. “This is true.”

“Then what do you want? ‘Cause I missed the bounty; I’m not even getting _paid_ for this job.”

“I don’t want your money, Mando’ad.”

That holier-than-thou attitude. Jango glares at the fire.

“I never got your name,” Qui-Gon notes. “You know mine, but I don’t know yours.”

Jango flips Qui-Gon off, and he laughs. It catches the bounty hunter off guard.

“I think you would like my younger student. He’s as rude and brash as you are.”

“I prefer to withhold my respect until I find someone who deserves it.”

“Yes, that’s something he would say, as well. He’s not the best with authority.”

“You have no authority over me.”

“ _I_ don’t, but you’ve made your distain for the New Mandalorians and the Death Watch alike quite clear. They both have more political power than the True Mandalorians, don’t they?”

Jango grunts. “They do.”

“Then you do have trouble with authority.”

“It’s not with _authority_ , it’s with the people who _possess_ it.”

“My student would say the same. Has said the same, in fact. He’s . . . disillusioned, I think, with the Republic. Thinks we aren’t making enough of a difference.”

“Stars, do you _ever_ stop talking?”

“I’m just trying to pass the time. I actually found our conversation quite engaging.”

“Well my leg hurts like hell, and I’d prefer if you didn’t make my head throb along with it. So shut _up_.”

Qui-Gon shrugs. “If that’s what you want.” He sits up a bit straighter and closes his eyes. “But I am a Jedi. I have methods of slowing my bodily functions in order to last longer in adverse conditions. You are not, and you lack that training.”

“Oh, here we go.”

Qui-Gon opens one eye.

“You Jedi are all the same. Think you’re so much better than everyone else because you’ve got laser swords and cool powers. Newsflash, _vod_ ; knowing a little Mando’a doesn’t make you any better than the rest of them, and neither does knowing a handful of our politics. You and the rest of the Republic allied yourselves with those dar’manda _New Mandalorians_. You don’t know a karking thing about us. But, of course, I’m supposed to grovel at your feet and beg for you to save me.” Jango spits. “Usen’ye.”

Qui-Gon waits patiently for the tirade to end. “I never said any of that,” he says softly. “You’re projecting your own thoughts and feelings about the Jedi onto me. It’s understandable. I won’t take it personally.”

“There you go again! Taking the moral karking high ground-”

“Do not misunderstand me, Mando’ad; I am . . . _frustrated_ that you choose to be angry at me, specifically, just because I’m readily available for you to shout at.“

“Oh, so you _do_ have emotions.”

“Of course I do; I’m a human man, just the same as you are.”

“Right. No one who can join that cult of celibate weirdos is anything like me.”

“We aren’t celibate.”

Jango nearly chokes on his own breath. “ _Sorry_?”

Qui-Gon smirks. “Many Manadalorians hold certain prejudices against the Jedi. You believe us to be — how do you put it?”

“Kidnappers. You take babies from their families.”

“Only with parental consent.”

“But you never get the _kid’s_ consent.”

“True. They’re very young when we take them in; one of my students was a remarkable outlier, and he was only three standard cycles. Usually we get to them before their first birthday. It is not intended to be a traumatic experience.”

“And then what? You-you indoctrinate ‘em, make ‘em think they can’t feel anything?”

“We give them food, shelter, a family — we give them a home.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you took ‘em from the one they already had.”

“Again, it’s only-” Qui-Gon groans. Despite his frustration, he finds himself laughing. “Do you have any idea what happens to those sensitive in the Force who _don’t_ join the Order?”

“They get to know about their own heritage.”

“For a while. And then, more often than not, they are _truly_ kidnapped. Taken from their families without _any_ consent and made into slaves. But the Jedi can train them; teach them to defend themselves.” Qui-Gon is still smiling, though it no longer reaches his eyes. “Mandalorians do the same thing, don’t they?”

Jango’s neck tenses. “We take in kids who have no one. Train them to fight. Raise them as our own.”

“Then it’s the same thing.”

“It isn’t.”

“Isn’t it?”

Jango scowls. He stares at the slowly dying fire, extending his hands towards it and rubbing them together.

“I could move closer,” Qui-Gon offers.

“I could cut you open and use your guts to keep myself warm.”

“That would only work for so long, though. _Sharing_ body heat is far more effective.”

Jango sighs. He can almost see his breath. He undoes the clasp of his cuirass and shucks it off, setting it carefully aside, before leaning into Qui-Gon’s shoulder. One strong arm wraps around his shoulders and rubs his muscular arm.

“You’re freezing,” Qui-Gon comments.

“I can take it.”

Another arm wraps around him from the front.

“You don’t have to.”

Qui-Gon’s breath is slow and even. Beneath the scent of ozone is good soil and tea, and Jango can’t help but relax a bit at the familiarity.

“Is this alright?”

Jango doesn’t respond right away. He just nods, curling slightly into the embrace.

“It’s okay, I guess. If it’ll keep me alive.”

There’s a moment of quiet. Jango fights sleep, shutting his eyes tightly and staring back at the embers of the fire.

“How long d’you think until that help of yours gets here?”

“It may be a while.”

“You were wrong about the fire.”

“I was. My mistake.”

Jango growls, tough it’s more at himself than anything else. “ . . . There are other ways to keep warm.”

“Such as?”

“Well, _you’re_ the one who brought up that you aren’t celibate. I kinda assumed you were coming on to me.”

Qui-Gon chuckles; a low rumbling in his chest that makes Jango bite his lip.

 _It’s just a quick little thing to save your life_ , Jango tells himself. _Nothing romantic or personal about it_.

“Sounds to me like it’s the other way around.”

Jango glares. He grabs the front of Qui-Gon’s tunic and kisses him harshly, open-mouthed. Qui-Gon responds by grabbing the shorter man’s hip and pulling him close.

Qui-Gon chuckles. “Mandalorians really _are_ aggressive in everything, aren’t they?”

“Usen’ye,” Jango snaps, reaching around to grip at the back of Qui-Gon’s tunic. “It’s just a lay.”

“And yet you seem quite passionate.”

Jango growls. It catches him off guard when Qui-Gon growls back, turning Jango’s head to suck at his jawline.

“Perhaps,” Qui-Gon says gently against Jango’s pulse, “if we keep this up long enough, it might be able to serve as a painkiller for that leg of yours.”

There’s an earthen groan from above.

“ . . . Or, perhaps it won’t be necessary.”

“Could be another collapse,” Jango argues.

Qui-Gon smirks. “Could be you wanting to get in my pants.”

“You wish. I’m kriffing freezing.”

“So there’s no ulterior motive?”

Jango rolls his eyes and pulls away. A shaft of light cracks open to reveal a young man, auburn-haired and freckle-faced. Snow falls down into the crevice around his head like a halo.

“Master Jinn!” The young man calls. “We got your signal!”

“Excellent. Thank you, young Obi-Wan.”

“Who’s that with you?”

Qui-Gon turns to Jango. “Yes, who _is_ this with me?”

Jango tries not to let his smile show. “Jango Fett,” he says curtly.

“Pleasure to meet you, Jango.” Qui-Gon returns his attention upwards. “Mister Fett requires medical attention. He won’t be able to climb out on his own.”

“Says you,” Jango mutters. He quickly hides his tiny grin and reaches for his helmet to put it back on.

Jango Fett cannot stand Jedi, but he might consider giving this one a pass.

**Author's Note:**

> if u want more quijango nonsense come yell at me on twitter @lostjedis ljsdlkfjsd thankS,


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